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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275942">Worth a try</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricecakes/pseuds/ricecakes'>ricecakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inception (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Home Invasion, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Vibrators</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:13:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricecakes/pseuds/ricecakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t asked for it, but Arthur was about to find the cure to his insomnia in the form of one masked machete-holding not-burglar, currently standing in the kitchen of his rented holiday villa.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur/Eames (Inception)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worth a try</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_bees/gifts">happy_bees</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Caution: neither of the characters are on quite the same page when sexytimes happen, though both are into it. If you want a spoiler just in case, this fic was based on this lovely nugget of reality, if things had gone a bit more wrong: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-australia-52843846</p><p>Reminder that this is a work of fiction! Gotta talk things through in real life, you know? And it’s always a struggle with tagging, please say if I’m forgetting anything. Thanks again to lady-serendipity for beta-ing!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur had stared at the ceiling for hours, tired and listening to the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach and utterly unable to fall asleep. Finally, he gave up and reached for the phone on the nightstand. It was already morning on the opposite side of the world after all. Never too early to get started on emails. </p><p>He’d been meaning to check in with Dubai about the new portable PASIV model. If the devices could be made smaller, or if the delivery mechanism could be made more inconspicuous... Nobody carried briefcases anymore; it was becoming harder to blend in. The price for the prototypes would be high, but it would be worth it. If they couldn’t pull some strings on the development side, they would have to ask Ali for a favor—though there was always some risk there, so he should talk it over with Cobb first.</p><p>But before that, Arthur should make sure there were no nasty surprises from the Foundling job and whether Blake’s resurfaced yet… it had gone well, but Arthur prided himself on being always prepared. </p><p>Then there was that query from Prasetyo that he had to finish researching in two days… You never knew when a small job could become a big one. Of their bigger challenges these last few years, quite a few started out as small tugs on the lines he’d cast. </p><p>After he drafted five emails and sent three, his phone buzzed with rapid-fire texts: “No emails! You’re on vacation!” Sometimes Cobb’s Dad persona spilled over into their work lives. It was amusing except for when he did it to Arthur.</p><p>He was about to reply something cutting about Cobb also checking email in the middle of the night… but then he realized the sky was already turning powder pink. Cobb must be accompanying Mal in her early morning yoga again—both of them swore that it helped with their insomnia.</p><p>While Dom and Mal had started adopting holistic treatments, Arthur steadfastly refused to do anything and just stared at the ceiling most nights. His body would adjust, at some point. If he wasn’t on a job, he could be allowed to be sleep deprived. (And if he fell unconscious sometime during the day, he could count it as a nap.) </p><p>This was also part of the reason why he was sitting in this random holiday villa on the California coast, blearily rubbing his stubble as the first fingers of dawn traced the wizen trees.</p><p>“Go on a vacation,” Cobb had said in that infuriating voice, the same one he used to soothe Phillipa when she threw tantrums about her bedtime. “We both know we’ve got enough saved up for now—take a break. The work will be there when you get back.”</p><p>“This is already a vacation, I’m visiting friends, as in you two, in between jobs.” Arthur glanced at Phillipa and James playing on their ipads in the living room. It was very domestic and the opposite of running from armed guards. </p><p>“Arthur, we don’t count.”</p><p>Arthur was about to argue when Mal gave a small nod of agreement. And Mal usually never cared about any of these matters. Her parenting was more of the laissez-faire variety. Arthur’s drawn face and dark circles must have appeared more severe than he had realized. </p><p>And thus, Arthur was packed off to a beachside rental that was a two hour’s drive from the Cobbs with a strict order to do <i>nothing</i> for the week. Absolutely nothing. In exchange, he would not be forced to take another long vacation that year, and Cobb promised to get off his case. A good deal, considering there just happened to be in a lull between jobs. It would be aggravating if Cobb decided to take him off an interesting job because of some misplaced concern.</p><p>Arthur hefted himself out of bed and cleaned himself up. He was still in a t-shirt and sweats, not yet dressed for the day, so might as well survey the perimeter on a morning jog. The scenery was nice, if you liked the natural beauty of stunted cliffs and misty beaches. He didn’t find anything out of order, but he did stop to briefly stand on the shore and watch the waves lap, remembering the scene from a job that almost went poorly, before turning back. </p><p>It wouldn’t be bad to start the day with a long bath. He’d tried out the bathtub in the master suite yesterday, and it was damn nice. The rental was just as luxurious as the hotels Arthur usually preferred, crap internet aside. Cobb and Mal probably picked it for the firepit and private beach. Arthur was pretty sure they’d be dropping by with the kids at some point this week. </p><p>On the other hand, Arthur had picked it because the gate and walls seemed to be quite secure, and it was outfitted with a security system that he’d used before. The villa had ample cameras, a keypad lock in the front, and Arthur had stealthily scattered some of his own surveillance equipment in the blind spots too, just to be sure. </p><p>He was feeling relatively safe, so when he’d walked up the steps to the deck and found the light on, he assumed it was just the lightswitch malfunctioning. The one in Cobb’s kitchen had a hair trigger too. Arthur’s instincts, which he were always so proud of, were quiet. He was still thinking about which cabinet the glasses were in, up until he shut the sliding door, turned and came face to face with a stranger. </p><p>The broad-shouldered man was dressed completely in black, with a balaclava over his face and a machete in his hand. Arthur glimpsed the glint of anticipation in this stranger’s eyes right before Arthur surged forward to attack. </p><p>“What–” the man grunted before he started blocking Arthur’s blows. Arthur threw the nearest things at hand—the paper towel rack and a bunch of bananas—advancing a few steps before leaping out of range of a sloppy machete swing. </p><p>Arthur furrowed his brows. This guy wasn’t pushing his advantage, despite having a weapon. Less professional than the men usually sent after him and Cobb. Even with just his hands, Arthur could take on a petty burglar. </p><p>Arthur would have liked to think that if he’d had his coffee that morning, he’d have taken the details all at once, instead of ignoring them for solving the immediate problem of “a stranger in the kitchen with a machete.”</p><p>First, Arthur hadn’t seen a professional wield a machete as more than a back-up before. At least not while back home, since guns were so easy and convenient. But there was no holster in sight. The tight black shirt and black jeans couldn’t have hidden anything. </p><p>Second, with the lack of tactical gear, the balaclava was an odd choice. It was summer, and granted that the temperatures were generally cooler by the seaside, there were probably easier things to wear than the classic ski mask. </p><p>Third, the man had been waiting in the kitchen. What kind of burglar would casually stand in a stranger’s kitchen with a machete? If it was Arthur, he would’ve gone straight for the bedroom or the home office, or even the living room. Hitman maybe, but this didn’t feel like a traditional hit. It didn’t even feel like a kidnapping, which usually didn’t happen to Arthur anyway.</p><p>Fourth, if someone was good enough to bypass all the security he had, they couldn’t have been incompetent. And yet, Arthur sensed no bloodlust. </p><p>Fifth...</p><p>Likely, Arthur thought to himself, this man was just a regular burglar, with the extreme misfortune of running into Arthur. </p><p>Blame the errors in judgment on his lack of caffeine. </p><p>Arthur leapt for the knives hanging above the sink. The man knocked him back with a few glancing blows. Maybe not that incompetent. Another crash echoed as Arthur threw the decorative fruit bowl and the man knocked it aside with the butt of his machete. </p><p>A part of Arthur’s mind wondered how much it cost to trash the place. Fuck it, he could pay for it. </p><p>Improvising, Arthur grabbed one of the hanging frying pans and started swinging. He knocked the machete out of the man’s grip, which flew out and shattered something on the other side of the room. </p><p>Before Arthur could relax, the man wrenched the pan out of his hand and threw it to the side, then lunged for Arthur, who danced out of reach. Grappling with their body types would be bad. </p><p>Arthur noted with faint surprise that the man chose to continue fighting barehanded, instead of going for the knives on the counter. Actually, the strangest thing about this man was that Arthur had not sensed any killing intent. At all. The blows landed precisely, but the man was mainly defending... no gut for blood? A burglar? But there was no way a regular burglar could bypass all of Arthur’s security measures. </p><p>“Who sent you?” Arthur questioned in between pants. “What do you want?”</p><p>His distraction turned out to be a mistake. Lightning-fast, the man grabbed his arm and tripped him, pinning him face-first into the cold floor tiles. The man’s superior mass pressed against Arthur’s leaner frame. Arthur tried for a headbutt but the man dodged, more than ready. </p><p>Soon his wrists were caught and cuffed behind his back, his mouth stuffed with a rag, and his ankles bound. Struggling desperately, Arthur could not get any power behind his movements. The remoteness of the holiday villa and the solitude of the beach were suddenly drawbacks. It would likely be days before Cobb would visit. Who knows where Arthur would be by then. Worry yawned in the pit of Arthur’s stomach.</p><p>It was better to make the man drop his guard first. The fight bled out of Arthur and he went limp. That was not much of an act. He was winded, out of adrenaline, and more than a little sleep deprived. He really only had enough energy for one more shot at escape, better make it good. </p><p>Strong hands drew him into a half-sitting position, before pulling him to his feet with a grunt, half-carrying and half-dragging him around the kitchen island. </p><p>Trussed and flushed with anger, he glared his fury as he caught his breath. Defeated by a better-than-average burglar. He cursed at himself, how could he have gone jogging without a single weapon! And how could the security cameras have not picked up anything? Was the front gate just for show? He’d grown complacent. Now look at this mess. </p><p>His pride was more hurt than his body, but he didn’t expect that to stay the case for long, even if this man didn’t seem too interested in hurting him. His employers might not be so kind. </p><p>With a burst of energy, Arthur tried to use his shoulder to knock the man off balance, or at least knock his hands loose, but that didn’t do much other than to make the both of them stumble. Arthur tried to stand and run for the knives, but overbalanced and pitched forward. He turned to roll with the impact but a strong arm caught him around the middle and pinned him to a sturdy body.</p><p>There was a snort of… amusement? </p><p>“I was going to go easy on you, but if you insist on misbehaving…” The pleasant voice dripped with unspoken threats. Arthur wanted to roll his eyes. Who did this guy think he was, a ham actor? The British accent sounded real enough, but it was almost cliche, wasn’t it?</p><p>British… who was British that they had offended recently? </p><p>The man sat himself on a dining chair, pulling Arthur across his knees. The position seemed odd; Arthur suddenly thought of a porno he once saw… Arthur jerked out of his wandering thoughts when the man slipped his fingers into the waistband of Arthur’s underwear. </p><p>“Bad boys get punished,” the man said. A chorus of what-the-fucks popped into Arthur’s head. Was this a joke? What the fuck? Who the fuck? Those fingers roughly yanked Arthur’s pants down around Arthur’s tied ankles. </p><p>Arthur’s muffled outrage and demands for explanation only drew a chuckle. </p><p>“You’ve nowhere to run now.” Was Arthur just hallucinating from lack of sleep? He couldn’t reach his dice at the moment, obviously, so there was no way to tell, but this didn’t feel like his usual.</p><p>The man brought his palm down with a crack. Arthur’s disbelieving shout was muffled by the gag. The man repeated the motion on the other asscheek. And then he continued. Crack! Crack! Crack! The sound rang in Arthur’s ears. He swallowed down his grunts and blinked his watering eyes. </p><p>Due to the angle of his body over the man’s lap, blood was rushing to his head, but it was rushing to another part of his body too… Whether it was the humiliation of getting spanked, the brush of his bare dick against the man’s legs, or the porno that he half-remembered, Arthur couldn't say, but he was hard. He shifted, wanting to hide it, but instead the man laughed coldly and gave him a particularly vicious slap that drove Arthur’s hardening dick into even closer contact with the man’s thighs. </p><p>“Are you going to be a good boy yet?” The dialog was ridiculous, but the low threat in the tone was full of promise. “Nod if you understand,” he said.</p><p>Arthur went limp with relief at the pause, and worked his mouth around the rag in his mouth, now damp with drool, trying to spit it out so he could talk.</p><p>“Alright then.”</p><p>The blows resumed and Arthur jerked—it was starting to be actually painful. But even worse than that, shameful pleasure bloomed ever stronger in Arthur’s gut from rubbing himself against the stranger’s taunt thighs. There was without a doubt a growing damp spot where his cock leaked against the man’s pants. </p><p>The man’s hands felt like fire whenever they rubbed over his tender skin after each hit, exploring the globes of Arthur’s reddened ass with sly touches. Hazily, he also found a small part of himself half hoping for just a little bit more… a little bit more what, he wasn’t sure, since it was all blurring together in his head. </p><p>No, pushing that aside, this situation was way too strange. Nodding frantically, Arthur’s last hope was that this would be over before he accidentally came. </p><p>“Good.” Arthur breathed a sigh of relief for the barest moment before the man hoisted Arthur over his shoulder with an arm secured over his legs. There was no plausible deniability now that his erection was pressed insistently into the man’s shoulder. But thankfully the man made no comment, only mindfully adjusting his body to avoid whacking Arthur into any walls or door frames.</p><p>When the stranger found the bedroom, he deposited Arthur carelessly on the bed like a trussed pig. “Behave. Don’t you dare move a muscle,” the man said and left the room.</p><p>Arthur immediately tried to roll onto his back to get into a sitting position, only to flinch and roll back onto his front. The sheets felt like sandpaper on his bare ass; he shifted uncomfortably, a reminder of what just happened. He ignored how good the sheets felt on his rock-hard dick.</p><p>The bedroom was certainly a more strategic location than the kitchen; he’d hid a handgun behind the headboard and his bug-out bag underneath the bed. He could possibly get out of his bindings with a little luck, and then he could put this behind him. Pull up his pants, ignore the sting, and beat this guy into the ground for daring to do whatever it was that just happened. </p><p>His wrists were bound firmly but Arthur noticed a little give in the cuffs too. Even if there weren’t, he could dislocate his thumb if he had to; he’d done it before.</p><p>Arthur wristed his wrist and slipped his fingers along the cuffs on his wrist, trying to find the catch, only to meet… velcro? Arthur was too panicked earlier, when he was getting bound, but he would have definitely noticed the sound of velcro, right? Baffled, Arthur lifted a corner experimentally and there was the distinct tearing sound of velcro. </p><p>Alright, fine. </p><p>So Arthur was sure he knew what was going on—or at least he was sure he was in no immediate danger, unless this was the most convoluted long-con. He relaxed. A mistake was made somewhere, and there were still outlying questions, but impossibly, Arthur found himself not really caring. This guy wasn’t a burglar, or a hitman. Though Arthur was definitely not supposed to be his client, there was no ill-intent. </p><p>The puzzle now solved, his drooling dick overtook his worry. The flash of heat on his skin earlier had ignited a craving. And against his better judgment, his body was burning, begging for more. The part of his mind that was always calculating and planning grew quieter and quieter as he twitched his hips against the soft sheets, too slippery to provide the friction he was looking for.</p><p>“Tsk, impatient, aren’t we?” A voice called from the door. Arthur froze. “You’ll have to be punished for that.” </p><p>The stranger dropped a black duffel by the bed. Then he took off the balaclava and didn’t even try to hide his face. (Arthur’s brain added another tickmark to the definitely-not-a-burglar column.) The sweat was already beading on the man’s forehead, trailing into his well-groomed scruff and down his powerful neck. Arthur couldn’t help but notice the plush lips and the perfect cupid’s bow. The man might’ve been handsome, had they met under other circumstances. </p><p>Arthur felt ridiculous, tied up with his pants around his ankles and dick hard enough to poke someone’s eye out. The rag gagging his mouth was probably not doing his looks any favors either. The stranger seemed to survey Arthur, then he smiled. </p><p>It was not a particularly kind smile. But it made something in Arthur shiver with anticipation. Arthur realized he was blatantly staring, so he turned his head, but kept the man’s movements at the corner of his eyes. </p><p>With a click, the man uncoupled the wrist cuffs and casually pulled Arthur’s arms in front of him and reattached them. Caught between surprise and lust, Arthur didn't react except to roll his shoulders, which had been getting tight with his arms behind his back. Now that his wrists were in front of him, he could see the cuffs were dark, padded, and definitely made of velcro. </p><p>In this new position, Arthur was reasonably confident that he could choke out this guy, cuffs and all, no problem. He could even grab his gun and do some real damage. </p><p>But well… fuck it. He would be lying if he said he had never been curious about this stuff before. This was fine. Call it gut feeling. </p><p>It came from the same reckless place that drew him into dream-sharing in the first place. He’ll deal with the rest of it later. Arthur laid quietly on the bed and let himself feel the lust drowning out his rational mind. </p><p>The man paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for a reaction and getting none. Then he slid a hand under Arthur’s shirt to tug it over his head and around his arms, calluses gliding along Arthur’s back. He rolled Arthur onto his back, grinning at the flinch that slipped out when Arthur felt his ass brush the sheets. </p><p>“Be a good boy and there won’t be any more punishment… beyond what you’ve already earned with that little trick just now.” </p><p>There was another click as the man uncoupled the ankle cuffs and stripped Arthur’s pants, socks, and shoes, before attaching each of his ankles and wrists to a black metal bar. When Arthur was finally spread to his liking, the man rummaged again in his duffel.</p><p>Trying for casual, Arthur flexed his arms, testing the range of motion in this new position. He was completely at this stranger’s mercy, at this stranger’s pleasure. He tried not to think about the flutter in his stomach at being immobilized and on display. The breeze between his legs was foreign. </p><p>The bed dipped as the man climbed on and dropped a bottle of lube and something else next to Arthur's hip. Arthur’s eyes widened when he recognized it was a vibrator attached to a switch; he’d used one with a college girlfriend a lifetime ago. </p><p>“Tap three times if it gets too much.” The man tapped for show against the metal spreader bar and grinned. His eyes roved over Arthur’s skin until Arthur felt barer than bare. Dampness settled on his belly from his still-leaking cock. Sensing that Arthur was psyching himself up, the man smiled again and cracked open the lube. </p><p>It was so cold. Arthur couldn't control how his body squirmed away from the chill dripping from his cock to his balls to his crack, but it felt oddly soothing when it reached his reddened ass. </p><p>A finger traced his rim and then pressed in. It felt weird, large and wrong against his sensitive nerves. His hard-on flagged a bit, but Arthur knew there was more coming. This guy was opening him up with the air of someone who knew what they were doing. </p><p>Arthur's eyes met the stranger's and he floundered at the laser-focused gaze. But closing his eyes was also a mistake, because then he was left with the throbbing of his dick, the throbbing of his asscheeks, and the discomfort of a slick finger ruthlessly probing into the deepest part of him.</p><p>Another finger joined the first, stroking and stretching his inner walls. Arthur opened his eyes again when he realized his dick was getting harder at the motions. It looked angry, and behind it, the pump of the man's arm looked filthy, shiny with spilt lube.</p><p>The man himself was red-faced as he watched his fingers disappear into Arthur. Craning his neck, Arthur may have seen a bulge in the man's pants, but at that moment something sparked and his head crashed back against the bed.</p><p>"Found it," the man said. Then he stabbed his fingers harder, faster.</p><p>Arthur’s brain short circuited. Swallowing against the gag in his mouth, Arthur choked on pathetic noises he didn't know he could make. </p><p>“This is supposed to be punishment, but it looks like you're enjoying yourself.” A choking hand wrapped around the head of his dick, stronger than an iron clamp. "Can't have that," the man chuckled and the fingers in Arthur slowed. “You have to work for it.” </p><p>Arthur buckled against the restraints for real, but between the unforgiving metal bar and the man’s tight fist, all the quacking kinetic energy of his body had nowhere to release. It was lucky that this man had not meant ill, because Arthur would have given anything to keep this torture going. </p><p>He wanted friction—no, he wanted something to press harder on that spot—no, he wanted, he wanted something to scratch the unbearable itch building underneath his skin. Arthur bucked harder, begging for mercy, staring pleadingly at the man’s smug face. Faintly, he registered the sting of the sheets rubbing against his sore ass, but the bright pain just brought to mind the ghost of how good it felt to rub himself against the man’s thigh. </p><p>"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," the man said. It was true, Arthur realized, he was clumsily twitching his hips to try to chase the sensation of fingers sawing against his prostate. He was a mess. </p><p>“Maybe we’ll teach you to be obedient yet. Guess it’s time for a little reward.” Fingers slid out of Arthur’s ass. He whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but then something else nudged at his entrance. </p><p>The vibrator hadn’t looked that big, but it felt enormous as it pressed against Arthur’s rim. Thanks to the thorough preparation, there was little resistance as it slid in and seated itself in Arthur’s core, hard and cold and unyielding, just a bit shy of where Arthur wanted it to be.</p><p>It felt like he was at the top of a roller coaster, full of dread and anticipation for what was about to happen next. His nails bit into his palms without his knowledge.</p><p>“Are you ready?” The stranger dropped his voice. The predatory tone pinged something in Arthur’s gut. </p><p>The buzzing started all at once and Arthur shook like a leaf. The vibrations began right over his prostate, assaulting him with waves of pleasure that squeezed tears from his eyes. He wanted to explode, he wanted to escape, he wanted to come, he wanted to come, he wanted to come. </p><p>Whimpers filled the room along with loud buzzing that came from everywhere and nowhere. The man seemed pleased, breathing heavily now, drinking in the sight of Arthur’s trembling form. Arthur almost didn’t notice the bulge in this man’s pants—the black almost concealed it—but his eyes kept tracing its shape once he spotted it. If he felt this good now, what would it be like if—</p><p>Fingers pressed the vibrator directly against his prostate without warning. The gag muffled Arthur’s shout.</p><p>Arthur was about to—he wanted to—he made a noise of frustration as he felt himself hitting the peak but unable to find satisfaction. The grip on his dick was just too tight. His thighs flexed and trembled, and he couldn’t think past how his body spasmed around the sensations.</p><p>The gag was yanked out of Arthur’s mouth. He drew in big gasping breaths. </p><p>“Say it,” the man said. “Beg me.”</p><p>“Please please please…” Arthur said.</p><p>“Tell me what you want.”</p><p>“Please…” Arthur sucked in a shuddering breath, “please let me come!” Arthur sobbed.</p><p>The hand on his dick loosened and began to pump him mercilessly. The world flared as Arthur came, twitching and jerking and drowning in pleasure. The torture seemed to continue indefinitely, until Arthur made a pained sound and the hand retreated, the buzzing stopped, and the room was quiet again but for his heaving breaths. </p><p>He hadn’t felt this weak in years. Arthur didn’t know it, but he looked wrecked. His flushed face and misty eyes were full of pleading. Warm palms slid over his sides soothingly. </p><p>“Alright, love?” The man said, cupping Arthur’s jaw. </p><p>He could feel himself still panting, gulping in air, mind still soft and quiet, not quite back from whatever trip he’d just been sent on. Was it his imagination? The man’s eyes looked gentle, and he regarded Arthur for a moment longer before removing the bindings and gently stroking his face and hair. Arthur leaned into it, closing his eyes. He was so tired.</p><p>The soft way the man lowered him into the bath was soothing, as was the drag of the washcloth over his tired body. It was nice to have someone take care of him. The man took his wrist and tsked at the marks. In some places they were showing the beginnings of a bruising, and stung. Yet Arthur found himself not really minding them. </p><p>“Just a moment darling, I’ve got something for those.” </p><p>From the doorway Arthur could see him dig into that black bag of tricks. His head felt fuzzy, pleasantly muted, and he was starting to feel sleepy. His suspicious mind commented that he still shouldn’t let his guard down around this stranger, but Arthur pushed that thought aside. It was already too late for that. The man had already played his ass like a fine instrument, he thought incoherently. And his eyes could barely keep themselves open, suspicions or no. </p><p>The man pulled out a tin of something, which he rubbed on Arthur’s wrists and ankles after toweling Arthur off. It smelled light and herbal. Afterwards the stranger even gently carried Arthur to his bed. Maybe he should have felt embarrassed at being treated so gently, but Arthur only felt sleep tugging at his eyes. </p><p>Arthur saw the man freeze after checking his phone. Ah, he thought, but he fell asleep before he finished that thought.</p>
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